Page 81 of False God

Bridget brings me a glass of cold water that I take tiny sips from while staring into space. Fran stays by my side while Jasper and Tripp stand like sentries. Cal kneels, picking up the larger pieces of the broken glass then tossing them into the garbage can next to one of the tall oaks.

“You guys don’t have to stay out here.”

Jasper snorts.

Cal gives me an incredulous look. “Of course we’re staying with you.”

Hugo returns, alone, a few minutes later.

I take another gulp of water before asking, “Did you find him?”

“Uh-huh. He said he needed to take care of something first.”

I told you sois stamped all over his face, echoing in the silence surrounding me, and then it’s interrupted by Tripp’s muttered, “Dick.”

I try to ignore the pang of disappointment that appears. I didn’t ask for Charlie because I needed him to comfort me or because we went on a date that ended with lots of sex. I asked for him because he’s the one person here who I know has some medical training and I’d like to avoid spending the remainder of my best friend’s wedding in a British emergency room.

“Okay,” I say, defeat saturating the two syllables. “I guess I should go to the hospital.”

No matter how inconvenient a trip to the ER is, I’m not willing to risk a brain bleed or whatever else can result from a head slamming into concrete.

Cal nods in immediate agreement. “I’ll drive you.”

“In a strange city, on the wrong side of the road, after drinking?” Bridget shakes her head. “Call a driver.”

“I’ll ask Chloe what?—”

“No,” I rasp, interrupting Fran. The pounding in my head feels like it’s worked its way into my throat. “Don’t tell Chloe. Make up some excuse if she asks about me. I don’t want to ruin her wedding. Someone at the front desk will know a car service. You guys stay here, and Cal will text you once we know more. Right?” I glance at Cal.

He nods again. “Right.”

“All right.” I blow out a breath. “Can you guys help me up?”

One of the terrace doors shuts, followed by the pound of confident footfalls.

“Don’t bloody move, Lili.”

I swallow—hard—as soon as I hear his voice. Slump with something that feels similar to relief and then try to sit up straighter. For the first time since I realized I was falling, I feel better.

Charlie crouches down next to me, then sets a first aid kit down on the pavers. “What happened?” he asks briskly.

Fran scrambles out of his way, leaving the two of us on the ground alone.

I have to clear my throat twice. “I fell. Tripped. Fucking heels.”

His warm fingers cover mine, coaxing my tight grip on the shirt loose so he can inspect the scrapes on my palm. He frowns at what I hope are just shallow cuts.

“Can someone flash a light?”

I look away from the brightness when it appears, not wanting to see the blood.

I stare at Charlie’s focused expression instead. Trace the line of his jaw and the angle of his nose and the slope of his forehead with my eyes. Features so perfect and proportional that they look like they belong to one of the Greek mythology sculptures in my favorite exhibit at the Met.

“Higher,” he instructs.

The light moves, but my eyes don’t. It feels like the pain is fading a little, but maybe I’m just getting used to it. Or more distracted than I was.

“She hit her head too,” Jasper says, the closeness of his voice making me think he’s the one holding the light. I don’t look away from Charlie to confirm.

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